Only in Fairytales
by Only Erik's
Summary: This is a modern POTO edited in an (hopefully) original way.
1. Goodbyes

R/R please, but keep in mind that this is my first fanfic.  
  
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The sky was dark. I took this to be a sign--a warning. As much as I did not want to be there, the place itself did not want me.  
  
Go, go, go, before it is too late. The wind blew past my face, whispering, warning. I wanted to go. I wanted to run away-far, far away from this looming building. I leaned against the car and watched silently as my aunt spoke to a small middle-aged woman. Closing me eyes, I remembered our conversation the night before.  
  
"My darling, I promised your father I would take care of you and this is the only way I can keep that promise."  
  
"I can just stay here with you! We will take care of each other."  
  
"I'm too old, child. You need more than what I can give you. This school. I have heard marvelous things, Christine. Incredible things. They will unleash your voice and let it fly."  
  
"But my soul will be caged."  
  
Tears clouded my eyes. Caged indeed. I could see the key being turned in the lock, feel the cold metal handcuffs around my wrists. A sob caught in my throat. How could Auntie think I would be happy in this dark place? I stared up at the huge pointed tower, the aged brickwork, the tangle of climbing ivy. I would truly be alone here.  
  
I had never really been alone before. My mother died when I was but a year old, but my father had been there to care for me. We were a team, he and I. The perfect team. All of Paris knew of us-the violinist and his singing daughter. Our life was full of adventure and fun. Then I watched as my father was infected by fever. I tried in vain to comfort him. I cooled his forehead with a wet cloth and made him tea. I had no way of calling a doctor; a phone would be silly we traveled so much. I couldn't bear to leave him alone, even to get help.  
  
Then Auntie appeared from nowhere, as she often did. She had a wonderful habit of showing up unexpectedly to visit her dearest baby brother. Often she brought me sweets and pretty clothes. She was the closest thing I had ever had to a mother.  
  
When she came, she cried out at my father's state. She dropped to her knees beside him and sent me for a doctor. She told me to run as fast as my thirteen-year-old legs would carry me. When the doctor and I returned to the house, Father was coughing blood. Auntie took my hand and led me from the room. She covered my ears to block the sound of Father's anguished moans. I had done everything in my power, but it was not enough. It was never enough.  
  
Auntie took me in and raised me as her own. I didn't sing again for a year, and when my voice finally lifted in song it was different. It had changed into a dull sound, a half-hearted trill. My voice had died with my father.  
  
Auntie did everything for me. She sent me to a proper school, which was definitely an improvement on Father's lessons. She spoiled me rotten, buying me everything my heart desired. She kept me a helpless little girl. As the years passed, her age became more and more visible. When I was nineteen, Auntie celebrated her seventy-second birthday. I lived with her for another two months before I was brought here, to my prison.  
  
Auntie shook the woman's hand and walked over to me. She placed her delicate hand on my cheek and smiled, "Come now, love, everything's arranged. Come meet Ms. Kitern."  
  
"Auntie, please don't make me go in there. I'm old enough to care for myself. If you don't want me anymore I'll live on my own. Please not here," I begged.  
  
"Oh, never ever think I don't want you. You're all I have, but this is for the best. Your not nearly old enough to take care of yourself.you can't even take a drink legally!" Auntie chuckled.  
  
"If you make me live here, I'll run away. I swear it," My voice betrayed me and made the statement seem unsure.  
  
She sighed, "No, no you won't."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"Because you wouldn't survive. I gave you everything but deprived you of so much. I've ruined you, child. Your age is nineteen, but your head and heart are barely twelve. You can't cook, and you don't know how to earn a dime. You'll learn here, Christine, learn much more than I know how to teach you."  
  
Her words stung me, but they were true. I would die on my own. But wouldn't I die here all the same? I wanted to be mad at Auntie. I wanted to turn and walk away from her, but the glistening of tears on her wrinkled cheeks stopped me. With a sob I hugged her tightly, knowing this may be the last time I could. She drew back after a moment and brushed the hair from my face.  
  
"It will be alright. You'll see. There will always be some one who loves you, Christine, no matter where you go. I bet you'll love it here. You'll forget about me in a week!" Auntie smiled weakly.  
  
I shook my head, "No, I'll never forget you. Ever. I'll write you all the time, I promise."  
  
"I'll miss you, my dear. I'll miss you more than I can say. You've been my daughter. I love you, darling, don't ever forget."  
  
"I love you, too," My voice trembled.  
  
"Goodbye, Christine. May God be with you," Auntie kissed my cheek and took my hand.  
  
"Goodbye. Thank you for everything."  
  
Auntie simply nodded. She gave my hand a squeeze and walked away. I watched her car disappear into the distance before turning towards Ms. Kitern. The woman smiled at me and gestured for me to pick up my bags. Before she began the journey towards the house, she attempted to comfort me.  
  
"I think you will be very happy here, Miss Daae."  
  
I attempted to smile back at her, but stopped as the wind's whisper flooded my ears. Look, look, look at what the tower hides. I obeyed and saw, in the heavily curtained window, an almost white flash of movement.  
  
"Are there people in the tower often?" I asked.  
  
Ms. Kitern paled, but quickly regained her composure, "No, don't be silly! Nothing is in that tower but cobwebs and junk."  
  
Yes, I thought, and a pale hand. 


	2. Plans

*New POV*  
  
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She is beautiful in way that stings. She reminds me of my mother, really, with her wild brown curls and piercing blue eyes. She dresses plainly, but still in a way that flatters her. It is incredible to me that she sighs when she looks in the mirror. Does she not comprehend the angelic qualities of her face? Yes, angelic, that's it. She is an angel. There is an angel in my school.  
  
I watch her, when I can. And I listen to her voice lessons. Who hired the fools that teach here? That man has no knowledge of voices. He called her hopeless. Did he not hear the perfect pitch she possesses? It's true, though, that her voice seems like it is dying. This fool cannot save it! I can.  
  
But how? I cannot teach her face-to-face. She does not know of me. Half the school has no knowledge of my existence, and the other half have heard of me only in stories. Stories of a "phantom" that haunts the high tower. Stories of a ghost with a face of white. Foolish stories.  
  
Perhaps I can earn her trust. Oh, if I only knew how! Every other thing I have devised a way to complete. I built this school, did I not? Built it alone, always alone. I hired that old woman and her wretched daughter. I gave them a place to stay and payment for their troubles. I built passages to every room in the school so that I may observe the students. I have done well, haven't I? Still I cannot think of a way to save her lovely voice. She would fear me, I know, fear me as all people do. What else could she do?  
  
I turn to my music to help me think. The pounding of piano keys clears my head. Oh, the sweet release of music. Music is all I have, all I have ever had. Without it I would have died long ago.  
  
The idea came quickly. The solution was so simple, so utterly obvious. There is one unoccupied room. To that room I had built an excellent passage that lead to the mirror. I can see through the mirror, but whoever was on the other side could not. I will go to work immediately, rigging the mirror so that it serves as a door. It is brilliant.  
  
In a week's time I will be done and she will move to the room. Then I will begin her special lessons. Nothing can go wrong. 


	3. Meeting

ookkkay sorry if the first 2 chapters sucked c/e interaction in this one.feel free to tell me if I am killing the story so I can stop! If you like it, review too. thanx.  
  
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I had spent only a week at the school before I was once again ripped out of familiar (if only a little) place and dropped into a new room. The other students were jealous for this room was something of prize in their eyes. It was larger than the others, larger and secluded on its own corridor. The room itself made no sense. The location was so strange, like the architect had thrown it in at the last minute with no purpose in mind. It was quite lovely, actually, but I found it odd that I should live there. Why me, and why after a week somewhere else? I didn't understand.  
  
I soon grew lonely. I had made one friend, Meg, a shy girl whose room had been next to mine. We were both timid and started the relationship cautiously. She was a sweet girl, and I liked her. Some of the other students found it amusing to remind her of her mother's position at the school: cleaning woman. They, of course, were the ones jealous of Meg's incredible dancing.  
  
My music lessons were going terribly. I was convinced my teacher, Monsieur Dubose, hated me. It seemed his vocabulary consisted only of words of criticism. Dreadful! Hopeless! A waste of time! I knew my voice had weakened, but were words like that really necessary?  
  
One night I lay in my new bed, contemplating my day. It had been particularly awful. Monsieur had sent my from my lesson early, proclaiming, "Child, there is nothing I can do with you! Your voice died long ago. This school is reserved for those who wish to make a career from their talents, but you have no hope of that. Perhaps this is not the place for you. I know there are many youths who are eager to be in your place."  
  
His words had driven me to tears. Auntie had sent me here with such dreams of glory and fame. How could I disappoint her so? I missed her, missed her so much that it hurt to think of home, but I couldn't leave now. Auntie had given me so much; I wanted to repay her with her wish.  
  
There, in the dark silence of my room, I began to cry once again. All this pain for nothing. I would never grace any stage. What was the point?  
  
Then a miracle occurred. A smooth, sweet whisper swept into the room, flooding my ears with its harmonious sound.  
  
". . .Christine. . ."  
  
I sat up, suddenly alert.  
  
". . .Christine . . ."  
  
The voice grew louder and its beauty struck me. Only the softest sound, yet so perfectly pitched! So wonderfully like music. My ears yearned to hear it again-to hear it forever!  
  
"Christine!"  
  
It struck me that the voice must want a response. My lips trembled as a spoke, "Who's there? How do you know my name?"  
  
"Oh, Miss Daaé, I know much about you. I know you are miserable here. I know that you cry because your music teacher is a fool. You mustn't weep so. It pains me."  
  
"You flatter me, but who are you?"  
  
"I am there, always, if you need me. Call to me and I will hear. No matter where you are, I will hear and come to you."  
  
I was growing annoyed, "Yes, yes, that's all very well and good, but to what name should I call?" I laughed, sure this was nothing more than a thrilling dream, "Only and ghost or angel could hear from anywhere and everywhere! Which are you?"  
  
"I am both ghost and angel, but to you always the latter. You need not ever fear me."  
  
"Then, Angel you shall be. But of what, pray tell? Mind reading? That's what it seems like!"  
  
The air was silent for a moment, as if the voice were thinking, "The angel. . .of music."  
  
"Very well. Angel of Music it is. I've heard of you from. . ." I paused, pained by the memory of my father, "my father. He spoke of you often. I am much obliged that you visit me!"  
  
I waited patiently for a reply, but all was silent. I laughed to myself. I must have been hallucinating. I was finally going crazy! Angel of Music indeed! 


	4. Foolishness

Omg this chapter sucks! Very short though so if you have been reading the other stuff might as well read this. Erik is such a wonderful character to write, but I am afraid of being untrue to him. There is such a fine line.well I tried! R/R please.  
  
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Angel of Music indeed! What was I thinking! Angel of Music! What a fool!  
  
But the moment was so perfect. If I hadn't spoken then, how long would I have waited for another chance? I wanted so much to ease her pain, and I had succeeded, had I not? She was not crying when I left her. I did not want to leave her after such a short conversation, but what a ridiculous conversation it was. I could bear it no longer!  
  
I feel so very stupid. She considers the whole affair to be the product of her imagination. Who could blame her? She was, literally, "hearing voices."  
  
I will visit her again tomorrow night. I will make my purpose clear, get straight to the music. I will earn her trust and ultimately her love. Oh, who am I kidding? I will never earn that. As long as I continue this miserable existence I will not earn any woman's love, especially not Christine. No matter what I do to prevent it she will inevitably see my face. I cannot fool myself into thinking she will not. Once she does it will be over. Everything will die. Any trust I have managed to build crumble; any affection I earn will be crushed. The sight of my horrifying ugliness always drives people to senseless fear, to the animal instinct to get away. It even did that to me, as a young boy thrust in front of the mirror. Even then I did not realize that the monster in the mirror was I. I will never forget the moment I realized that. . .  
  
But, for a while, she will not now. She will be blissful in her ignorance. All she will know of me is a beautiful voice. All I will know of her is everything. 


	5. Not A Dream

Thank you, thank you, and thank you to my reviewers!!! * blows many kisses * I'm glad you're liking the story!! ew I dunno if I like the first part of this ch, but the E/C interaction is fun to write! It's quite a challenge to keep everyone in character. . .anyway R/R!!  
  
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I woke up from the strangest dream. A beautiful voice drifted into my room and told me it was the Angel of Music. It was wonderful, and so very real. Papa told me so many stories about that Angel when I was a little girl. There was a time when I believed in them, but that time has passed. Things like that only happen in fairytales. Still, the dream was so crisp and clear. . .  
  
I was lost in memories that whole day. I thought of the day I found my father staring at an old picture of my mother.  
  
"Do you miss her, Papa?" my six-year-old self asked.  
  
"Yes, very very much," he replied.  
  
"Will you see her again? Will I?" I said as I climbed into my father's lap.  
  
"Someday, in heaven, we will see her again."  
  
"Are there angels in heaven?"  
  
"Yes, your mother is an angel now. When I die, I will see her again, as well as other angels."  
  
"You aren't going to die, Papa. I need you."  
  
My father chuckled sadly at this, "Someday, child, I will die."  
  
"And leave me all alone?" I felt tears collecting in my eyes.  
  
"No. I will send you the Angel of Music and you will never be alone. I promise."  
  
How could my well-meaning father know that those words would be with me forever? Since the day he died I've waited in vain for my angel. . . .but no more. The dream showed me I finally have to let go. No more hoping; no more hanging on to fairytales. A tiny voice in my head protested. /What if it wasn't a dream?/  
  
Of course I hoped it had been real. There was only one way to know, really. If he came to me that night, I would believe fully and totally. I would give my soul to this angel. If he did not come, I would finally let this fantasy die.  
  
That night I did not even pretend to go to sleep. I fidgeted anxiously in my room. I paced. I wrung my hands. Anyone watching me would have thought me quite insane.  
  
Finally, oh finally, the silence of my room was broken!  
  
"Good evening, Miss Daae."  
  
I jumped at the voice. It's heavenly sound echoed in my ears and there is no way to describe the ecstasy I felt. He was real! My angel had come at last.  
  
"Oh, Angel of Music, I was so sure I had dreamed you up!" I cried.  
  
"No, you have not. Tonight we are to begin your voice lessons. Sing, my dear, sing any song you desire. I wish to learn exactly what I must teach you."  
  
I blushed madly, "I'm afraid I may be a disappointment to you. You will realize you have the wrong room after only a note!"  
  
"If you do not sing, I can not teach you. Perhaps I should find another, more willing, student."  
  
I cannot explain the terror I felt at the thought of him leaving. I can only say that the fear washed over me in one complete, powerful wave that nearly caused my knees to give way underneath me. In panic, I opened my mouth and sang. I chose a short song, for even I could no longer bare the harsh void in my voice. When I was done, I closed my eyes and braced myself for the Angel's reply.  
  
There was nothing. Silence closed in around me and I began to feel very claustrophobic. I had failed. I had failed the Angel, my father, my aunt, and myself. I felt all of my dreams slowly slip away. . .  
  
"We have a great deal of work to do," Angel said suddenly. I could not believe my ears!  
  
"Then--then you're still going to teach me?" I managed.  
  
"I could not leave now, when I truly know how much help you need!"  
  
I could have taken that as an insult, I suppose, but at that moment, those words were the most beautiful I had ever heard. 


	6. NOTICE

Hello all!

This phic has MOVED! So have I!

New location: http/ 


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